


Ready, Set...Go.

by xtremeroswellian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Lydia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a couple of missing scenes from "More Bad Than Good."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Set...Go.

She’s at her locker that afternoon the first time she hears about what happened that morning. She pauses, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead as if there’s something inherently fascinating inside her locker that she’s focused on as she listens to the not-so-quiet conversation from classmates she barely knows though they’ve gone to school together since Pre-K. 

“It was kind of hilarious,” the girl says, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she speaks to the two boys standing with her. 

Lydia tries to remember what the girl’s name is. Lisa? Lynnie? Liz? She can’t remember. It probably doesn’t matter because she doesn’t really care. It’s the topic of conversation that has her interest, not the people having it. 

“When has the guy _ever_ had a hard time talking before?” one of the guys asks.

“Never. And Scott McCall practically had to carry him out of the room. It was so pathetic,” Lisa/Lynnie/Liz tells them with a laugh. 

“They’ve been joined at the hip since birth,” the other guy says.

“Yeah, but let’s face it. McCall is way cooler than he used to be and Stiles Stilinski is as big of a loser as he’s ever been. McCall? Needs new friends, stat.” 

Lydia has had enough. She purses her lips, more annoyed than she probably should be as she shuts her locker none too gently and marches directly over to the little group. “I couldn’t help but overhearing your extremely tiresome diatribe about a friend of mine.” Everything in her voice and her posture indicates that she is not impressed with any of them. 

They are all staring at her with wide eyes because Lydia Martin is always selective about whom she speaks to. 

“For your information,” she says coolly, giving a toss of her own hair, which by the way, is much prettier than Lisa/Lynnie/Liz’s hair and Lydia damn well knows it, and she also knows she has the attention of the entire trio, as well as some random passerby’s. “Not only is Stiles Stilinski one of this school’s _smartest_ people, he’s also one of the best players on our school’s winning lacrosse team.” 

Lisa/Lynnie/Liz seems to realize her mistake because her eyes go wide and she begins to stammer. “I was just making conversation,” she begins.

Lydia cuts her off, lifting her chin and narrowing her own eyes. “The next time you decide to make an absolute idiot of yourself, do it someplace less public where people who have functioning brains can’t overhear your complete and utter lack of class.”   
The hallway is dead silent now. 

“Furthermore, you should know that you really couldn’t find a better, more loyal and dependable friend than Stiles, and if I ever hear you making fun of him again? I’m going to make your life incredibly miserable very quickly,” Lydia informs her with a sweet smile on her lips that contradicts her threat but drives her point home. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl says, looking truly frightened. 

Good. Lydia’s done her job. 

She regards the two boys with a simple arch of her eyebrow that lets them know they will never be graced by her presence on a date before she moves past them, books in her arms as she heads off to AP Calculus, whipping her phone out of her purse and sending Stiles a quick text message. Something is wrong with her friend and it both concerns and aggravates her that she wasn’t made aware when it happened. 

Lydia Martin refuses to be out of the loop ever again.

* * * 

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” 

This time Lydia pins Stiles himself with one of her famous _you have annoyed me greatly and you’d better rectify this situation immediately_ glares. 

She sees his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Too tightly. His knuckles are white. He is not okay. He hasn’t been okay since the sacrifices, and she doesn’t understand why he’s pretending that he is. Stupid male pride or some other kind of bullshit reason. She knows him too well. She reaches out and lays her hand on his arm, noticing how he relaxes a little almost instantly and glances at her sideways. 

“Stiles.” This time when she speaks, her voice is more quiet. “You don’t have to pretend with me, okay? Things aren’t okay. I get it. Just...don’t shut me out, all right? I’m your anchor, remember?” 

His breath seems to catch at that and she sees him swallow hard, takes in the flash of actual fear that flickers over his face. He is terrified, and in turn, that terrifies her. It dawns on her that that is the reason he isn’t talking. Not because of male pride. Because he doesn’t want to scare her away. 

Lydia sighs and squeezes his arm. “We’re going to figure this out. You’re not alone.” 

The ghost of a smile touches his mouth and he nods slightly, just enough so that she knows he’s heard her. That she’s gotten through, at least for the time being. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. 

Lydia smiles. 

* * * 

After, they walk through the woods, and they are both quiet. Her heart is still beating faster than usual, and she imagines that his is too. He has just saved her from a really terrible possible fate -- again. She pauses in her tracks and turns to face him so suddenly that he stumbles right into her. Instinctively, she reaches out, hands against his chest to keep him from falling and then he’s staring at her, eyes a little darker than usual and dropping to her mouth. 

Oh. 

They haven’t really discussed that kiss she’d planted on him weeks ago, but obviously they’re both thinking about it now. 

She shifts closer to him without really thinking about it, and his arms slide around her, which surprises her in a good way. Distantly it occurs to her that he’s been working out, his arms and chest more solid than they had been before the sacrifices, and that’s a good surprise too. She rises up on her tiptoes and presses a delicate kiss to his mouth because otherwise he’ll probably just stand there staring at her and thinking about the thing that they both so clearly want right now. 

He shuts his eyes, one hand rising to cup the back of her neck and she hums her approval against his mouth as the kiss deepens. She lifts her hands to his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as she melts against him. 

After a moment, he pulls away, looking dazed. “I wasn’t having a panic attack,” he says uncertainly. 

Lydia smiles. “No, you weren’t,” she agrees. She lets her hand slide down his arm, feeling the muscles that he’s developed there and links her fingers with his. She’s no longer looking for a distraction. Not the way she was months ago after Jackson left. No, now she’s looking for something more. Something that actually means something. With Stiles, she knows it will always mean something. For both of them. 

“You ready?” he asks, not looking entirely sure what’s just happened. It’s kind of an adorable look for him. 

“Let’s go,” she agrees, squeezing his hand and leading him out of the woods.


End file.
